Black and grey geometric illustration of two crows in flight, one rising upward and one diving, built from angular torn-paper style facets, shown on a plain white background.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Two flying crows in faceted black and grey

Geometric · Black and grey · Flash

The image shows two crows in flight, one with wings spread wide and angled upward, the other diving diagonally towards the lower right. The birds are built from angular, faceted shapes in black, dark grey and light grey, with torn-edged feather details suggesting a cut-paper finish. The plain white background isolates the two birds, giving a clean, high-contrast composition.

Geometric Crow Raven Bird Flight Feather

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit down, the lot of you, and stop pretending you can't hear me over the fiddler. The year the Glen bridge washed out, my cousin Dorrie married a shepherd called Tam Ruthven, and two crows came to that wedding that nobody had invited. They sat on the lychgate and argued about the cake like a pair of old magistrates.

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Everyone knew what crows at a wedding meant. One goes up and takes a leaving with it, and the other comes down with a coming. The bride's brother, who was counting the silver spoons on the trestle table, swore the black one nearest him had a wing spread wide enough to block the sun. Then it dropped, straight off the gatepost, and landed on the table with its beak full of nothing at all. It stared at the spoons, then at him, and went quiet as the minister.

Dorrie laughed till she had to sit down on the wall. She untied the blue ribbon from her hair, held it out to the crow, and it took the ribbon in its beak and flew it up over the kirk roof, where the other bird was circling. They tangled it between them like two fishermen with one line, and when the sun came out the ribbon was a flash of blue on the wind. Tam swore it was the best omen he'd ever seen, and Dorrie told him that was because he'd never once been right about anything. The crows never came back, but every spring after, a bit of blue thread turned up caught on the lychgate, and nobody ever had the heart to pull it off.